


Beauty of Grey

by tjs_whatnot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Second War with Voldemort, Wizarding Wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-05
Updated: 2009-01-05
Packaged: 2018-10-27 08:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjs_whatnot/pseuds/tjs_whatnot
Summary: Severus watches Remus in his grief and knows from his own experiences what can become of someone who allows themselves to wallow, how the pain will be used, manipulated. He is determined to pull Remus out, by whatever means necessary.





	Beauty of Grey

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> Written for HP_yule_balls.

It was the end of the world; that was obvious.

Remus Lupin walked slowly to his solitary haven his place away from all that was expected of him, of all that he was supposed to be…his cabin, their cabin in the woods.

A cooling breeze swirled around his bare legs. He laughed; the sensation of the outburst burned in his throat. It had been a very long time since he had laughed, and back then, it didn’t have the bitter bark it did now.

He looked down at the tartan of his kilt and couldn’t keep the amusement from forming a smile on his face. The kilt had been Sirius’ idea. The agreement had been made back when they had thought that such things as death and funerals happened to others—never for them.

It was when they were still in school. Remus had invited his friend to stay the summer, knowing that summers in the Black home were dreadful for him. Remus hadn’t thought Sirius knew just how Scottish the Lupins were until they had gone to a family gathering and every man but Sirius had been in a kilt.

At the time, Sirius had gotten enjoyment out of taking the mickey out of his friend. But later, when they had became more then friends, and after Sirius had discovered that it was true about what they said about Scottish men and what they wore under their kilts, it wasn’t something Sirius had teased about; it was something he begged Remus to wear.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that they had made the promise that Remus had thought he’d never have to fulfill. The promise had been that they would wear a kilt to the funeral if either of them were ever to die.

The heat the last week had been unendurable as his world had crumbled. Had it really been last week that he had stood there and watched the body he knew better than his own float away into the abyss? A week ago that he felt so useless, his only contribution holding back the only person who wanted to follow Sirius more then he—Harry.

Now, the breeze that rustled the dying foliage soothed Remus’ skin, and he lingered outside. Walking around the house, he came to the shed out back. He had forgotten about what was in there. Sirius had brought that damned motorcycle here when Hagrid had returned it to him after Dumbledore had reinstate the Order of the Phoenix and Sirius’ innocence had been announced.

They had spent many a night talking about the future while Sirius tinkered with the bike. Many a night Remus would watch Sirius wipe broad, loving strokes over the chrome and paint of the bike until Remus couldn’t take it anymore and would whisk him into the house for some ministrations of his own.

He let the memory wash over him as he walked around the bike, dusty now with neglect. Reaching out, he remembered Sirius’ fingers grasping the handles in his youthful exuberance and with eyebrows waggling, urging Remus to grab hold.

Remus straddled the bike, the heat residing in the black leather stinging his bare thighs. He sighed and let the memory continue. He could almost hear the roar of the engine, the vibrations of the rumbling motor riding through him, his arms around Sirius’ waist, clutching him, leaning into him, rubbing against him.

Getting swept up with the fantasy, he leaned forward, so that he was lying across the seat of the bike, his exposed cock growing hard as it touched the warm, soft leather, and he imagined Sirius against him.

He shifted himself, the friction causing him to moan as he stood up, wrapped one hand around the handle, grasping the clutch, and, with the other, turned the key and, with a fluid motion of surprising force, kick-started the bike with a powerful growl.

The engine roared to life, and Remus felt its pulsations throughout his whole body. Moaning, he revved the engine and felt the thrumming as he rotated his hips against the bike. He imagined the warmth to belong to Sirius, the growl of the whining motor to belong to his hungry lover. Closing his eyes, he thrust against the seat, feeling the vibrations rock him harder and harder. Biting his lip to suppress the urgent orgasm that rocked him, he felt his ejaculation soak into his kilt and into the leather of the bike. Sighing softly, he killed the engine; cast a spell to clean his garment, leaving the stain of himself on the bike.

He would never ride it again.

***

They gave him his space.

Only a very small number of his friends knew the full extent of his loss, but even without the added grief of a lost lover, losing the only childhood friend you had left was enough sadness to be getting on with, most said.

People allowed his distance. Most people.

***

“I’ve been watching you.”

Remus jumped.

Severus Snape hovered in the Weasleys’ kitchen doorway. The Order meeting had just finished and only a few members remained. They were still in the sitting room continuing to strategise. Severus was in the doorway and Remus didn’t know how long the unwelcome observer had been there watching him doing dishes, or more specifically, doing the same dish over and over.

“Yeah? Waiting for the opportunity to turn the knife? To publicly revel in my loss?”

Remus didn’t turn around but he could hear Severus moving closer slithering toward him until he was right behind Remus, breathing down his neck. Remus froze.

“You Marauders, ever self-involved. Do you really think I’ve been waiting for a moment to tell you how very much I loathed your friend? How better off I think you are now…”

Remus turned on him. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you open your…”

“Ah, there it is. That’s what I’ve had my eye on,” Severus said, a wicked smile forming on his lips inexplicably.

“What?”

“That spark of life. I’ve been waiting for a pulse.”

He was leaning into Remus now, Severus’ long nose almost touching Remus’. Not only did Remus have a pulse, but they both felt it beating faster, felt his hair stand up.

“I don’t need _you_ to tell me that I’m still alive. I don’t need _you_ to tell me that life is worth living.”

“I am the last person to tell you that life is worth living.”

Somehow, Severus was even closer, his breath even more strongly saturating the fabric of Remus’ being. He got the almost heady and yet repulsive feeling that he was being marked, as if a territory that Remus wasn’t willing to give was being claimed against his will.

“So what do you want to tell me?” Remus whispered, almost whimpered.

“I want you to know that there will come a time when people will try and use your pain against you, get you to do things you don’t want to do, be what you don’t want to be. Maybe you have some misguided sense of guilt. It will be used.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Remus asked, not understanding what this caution had to do with the feeling Snape’s domineering stance was eliciting in him.

“Because the only way to save yourself, the only way to get on with your life is to get angry.”

Remus swallowed. “And you’re here to make me angry?”

“Yes.”

“H—”

Before it got out, Severus had taken Remus’ face in his hands and was crushing Remus to him. Remus didn’t have time to think, to pull away, no time even to realize what was happening. Not until Severus’ mouth crushed onto his, and his tongue invaded Remus’ mouth. The assault was brutal and sloppy; Remus put his hands on Severus’ chest to push away. And after a moment, a moment he would blame on shock, he shoved his attacker away.

Pulling his wand out of his pocket, Remus advanced on Severus, grabbing his robe and pinning him to the opposite wall.

“Is this what you wanted to see?” Remus spat into Severus’ face his heart pounding so loud that he almost didn’t hear Snape’s answer. It wouldn’t have mattered; he would have got the meaning.

Severus wet his lips slowly. “Delicious.”

Remus wasn’t sure what he would have done next; the possibilities seemed endless and terrifying, but someone was calling from the other room. Remus had forgotten there were other people in this house, other people in the world.

“Severus,” Dumbledore’s voice called.

Remus pulled away and tucked his wand back in one fluid motion, running his hands through his hair and wiping his face, trying to erase the last moments. Severus licked his lips again and then ruffled his robes before Albus entered the kitchen.

“Oh, there you are. Coming, Severus?”

Dumbledore didn’t wait for an answer, and Remus watched Severus’ whole demeanor change from the cocky, impudent swagger of moments ago to an almost cowering slump. Without a glance or farewell, Severus followed the headmaster out of the room, head bowed.

***

Remus couldn’t get the dejected look of Severus scampering after Albus out of his mind, just as he couldn’t get the taste of his kiss off his tongue. Why had Snape kissed him? Surely, there were other ways to make him angry, besides, why would Snape care one way or the other what he was feeling? Somehow, he thought the question of one answered the other, but he refused to think about it.

Remus pushed those thoughts out of his mind by sheer force of will. The only thing that completely got rid of them was relieving the past. It was his safe place.

_Sirius’ smile was awkward and sneaky as he tentatively took Remus’ hand and brought it to his lips._

_“Is this okay?” he asked._

_Remus smiled and squeezed his lover’s hand._

_They were fifteen and were in the Forbidden Forest looking for toads for potions and exploring their newly confessed feelings for each other. In the months to come, they found no toads, but had discovered what it felt like to be pinned to a birch tree while a boy who had been a friend forever glided and wetted his tongue down your torso as he worked off your jeans and pants._

Looking back at it, Remus couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t love Sirius; a time when Sirius wasn’t the most important thing to him. Remus had lost him before and had thought he would disappear with the pain of it. This time, the loss was even more horrific because of its finality. Yet there was a peacefulness that accompanied it now that hadn’t been there back when Remus had to question his own judgment, question just how little he knew about the only constant in his life, question whether Sirius had actually committed the crimes of which he was accused.

However, like last time, the way he survived the nights where suffering engulfed him was to close his eyes and be swept away in his own fantasies, his own memories.

He lay on his bed, not on his side, not on Sirius’, but in the middle, the place where they had met to cuddle into each other, share their secrets, confessions and dreams. And, in more nights then Remus could remember, it was where they had met to explore each other. Remus lightly feathered his fingers up his stomach and chest, closing his eyes and breathing deep.

_“Do you like this?” Sirius asked, straddling Remus and licking his Adam’s apple before he sucked it lightly, then more forcibly._

_Remus moaned his answer as Sirius begun unbuttoning Remus’ shirt slowly and deliberately. While Sirius worked his tongue along Remus’ jawbone, Remus worked his fingers nimbly on Sirius’ jeans, so that by the time that Sirius worked his tongue into Remus’ ear, causing Remus to gasp with need, he had Sirius cock in his hand._

_They growled into each other’s skin as Sirius begun to slowly slither himself along Remus’ body, tongue lapping at his flesh, leaving his mark along Remus’ chest, torso, and hips. With heavy lids, Sirius looked into Remus’ eyes before taking Remus’ cock in his hand and wetting his erection, working his tongue slowly up his shaft and then back down, taking Remus’ balls in his mouth and swirling his tongue. Remus shook with pleasure and could feel Sirius grin around his cock as he begun sucking._

_Remus mumbled an oath as he pumped his hips and begged for more. Sirius swallowed him deeper, hollowing his cheeks against Remus’ weeping cock, causing Remus to moan again._

_“Fuck, you feel good,” Remus said between gasps, twining Sirius’ dark locks in between his fingers, almost crying with the need for release._

_Sirius increased his pace as he caressed Remus’ arse, massaging his cheeks before sliding his finger into Remus’ hole._

_Remus felt his orgasm rise inside of him, the suction of Sirius’s mouth on his cock increased alongside the pressure of his finger against his prostate._

Remus lay in the middle of the bed, sweat pooling on his chest and neck, his cock in his hand, dreaming, remembering. As he imagined the hand wrapped around him was Sirius’ lips, he tugged slowly and painfully. Thinking of Sirius’ body hovering over his, Sirius’ fingers inside him, he was so close to orgasm that he felt it working its way through his body with a shudder.

He closed his eyes to see the scene play out again behind his lids.

_Feeling the strong, confident fingers of his lover preparing his entrance, one finger then another, Remus reached out to bring his lover to him for a kiss before the lovemaking was started in earnest. The face that greeted him, that looked hungrily at him was not Sirius’…_

The curse he exhaled ripped in the suddenly airless room, sullying Remus’ imagination…

“Snape!” Remus cried out, opening his eyes to hide from those dark, hateful eyes in his mind. Horrified by himself, he was even more so seconds later when he ejaculated in a violent burst, drenching his stomach and chest with come and a vile disgust.

***

“Again Arthur and Molly, thank you for the use of your home for these meetings. Until we have secured Grimmauld Place’s ownership, we will remain using this as Headquarters. With your permissions of course,” Dumbledore said, addressing the overcrowded sitting room of the Weasleys’ home.

Remus struggled to keep his mind on the meeting. He had spent most of it staring daggers at the man who barely acknowledged his presence across the room. The only time he was pulled from his agitated ruminations was at the end when Albus asked Remus to meet with him after the meeting to talk privately.

“Of course,” he had answered without a thought.

Snape finally turned his eyes to Remus and returned his icy glare with his own. Remus didn’t understand the look. But those eyes, those damn eyes!

Later, when again Snape had cornered Remus in the Weasleys’ kitchen, the look was still there. And, as Snape had him pinned against the wall, the clock above them telling them everyone was home, Remus could do nothing but stare at those eyes.

“Are you angry?” Snape growled.

“With you? Livid,” Remus answered, struggling to release himself.

Snape seemed to have no trouble keeping Remus where he wanted him, arms flung up by his head, back pressed painfully against the wall as Snape chest pushed into his. This enraged Remus the more.

“Good,” Snape whispered hot against Remus neck. “Do you hate me?”

“With every ounce of my being.”

Snape ran his tongue slowly from the top button of Remus’ shirt up to the lobe of his ear, biting gently. Remus fought to control the shaking in his body and the reaction of the sensory effect in his cock.

Nudging Remus’ feet apart with his thick muddy boots, Snape brought his thigh hard against Remus’, grinding his pelvic bone harshly into Remus’ crotch. “Are you going to do for me anything I ask?”

Remus bit his lip to stop the moan. He wanted to get away, he really did, but another part of him, a shameful, deeply buried part burned to be touched, to be caressed. It had been so long since anyone had touched him. He didn’t trust his voice, felt it might betray him like his throbbing cock was, like his hips pumping into Snape’s thigh was; he shook his head instead.

“What was that?” Snape snarled against Remus neck as he readjusting himself so that his own hard erection pushed painfully against Remus’.

Shaking all over by his body’s betrayal, Remus took a deep breath, let go of his lip and exhaled painfully, “Never.”

Remus could feel Snape’s smile against his skin, feel the lips twitch and a slight chuckle that sent shards of repulsive desire along his spine. He wanted to hurt Snape, to drive him against the next wall, or throw him against the table, force his face down onto the beat up wood and pound into him all his anger and hatred.

He felt Snape rise and fall on the balls of his feet, grinding into him, he smelled the stench of sweat mingled with the pungent stink of food set out too long, and in the back of his mind, he could hear voices mumbling meaningless nothings in the room on the other side of the wall. None of that mattered as Snape breathed into his skin, rocked against Remus’ erection with his own hardened cock, through their trousers, through their pants, through miles of pain and years of hatred.

Remus whimpered against his weakness and his desire. Somewhere in a forgotten distance, he heard his name being called, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he fight his release, that he not give Snape that too.

Snape was whispering something, his breath hot in Remus’ ear. Remus had to struggle to make sense of the words. “There will come a time soon, when your pain will be used; don’t let them have it. Turn it to anger.”

Remus cried out as his body’s final betrayal ripped through him, soaking his pants and slithering hot down his leg. Moments later, Snape froze against him, and Remus felt the orgasm rock through his captor as well.

Snape buried his nose in Remus’ shoulder before sliding his tongue up Remus’ sweaty neck, sucking on his chin, before kissing Remus hard, his tongue seeking out Remus’.

“Ah, delicious.”

“Remus,” Dumbledore’s voice was right outside the room. Remus pushed Snape away, and this time, he let him. With a wandless charm, Remus cleansed himself and walked out of the kitchen where Albus was waiting for him.

“Oh there you are. Coming, Remus?”

This time, it was Remus’ turn to slouch after Dumbledore, but unlike Snape, he did turn to look at the man watching him walk away. The look Snape gave him was unreadable again, but it looked a bit like desperation and pleading.

***

Remus walked through the gates of Hogwarts beside Albus. Neither of them had spoken since they had left the Burrow and Apparated into Hogsmeade. If it hadn’t been for Snape’s warning, Remus would have thought this was nothing more than a friendly chat between a grieving man and his mentor. However, something of what Snape had said settled into Remus and gave him a sense of foreboding. Albus’ charred hand and his refusal to give Remus any information was not helping. There was a time when Remus thought there wasn’t anything that Albus wouldn’t tell him if he asked; there was a time where Remus would never even imagined that he had a right to know.

If they still lived in those times, then he would have listened to Albus, would have done anything he asked of him and he would have done it without question or complaint. Even if the thing Dumbledore asked of him was to rejoin a group of animals that represented the thing he loathed in himself, to rejoin the very monster that created him in his own image, who took away his childhood, his chances of living a normal life.

_There will come a time soon, when your pain will be used; don’t let them have it. Turn it to anger._

***

Leaving Dumbledore’s office, feeling as if he had agreed to the one thing that would end any peace he could have garnered for himself, he was angrier then he had ever been in his life. He wanted to seethe, to destroy…to…

“Lu—” Snape started to say, opening the door of his office. Remus rushed him, grabbed his collar and slammed him into the wall on the other side of the room, knocking over bottles and books in his need. They stared at each other, Lupin’s eyes burning with detest and hunger and Snape’s with what looked like admiration. This baffled Remus, but he didn’t stop to question, to think. Instead he took Snape’s face into his hands and kissed him, his tongue diving into Snape’s mouth and seeking out some sort of redemption.

When he was unable to breathe, he pulled away from Snape, but Snape held on to him and Remus rested his head on Severus’ shoulder, matching his breath with Snape’s.

“Are you angry?” Snape asked.

Remus nodded into Snape’s neck.

“What do you want to do?”

Taking one last deep breath, Remus glared at him and then took Snape’s shirt in his hands and, with one violent tug, popped every button on it. As he laid wet kisses, bites and licks along Snape’s naked shoulders and chest, he worked off his own shirt with impatient fingers.

Snape’s head was back, his eyes closed as Remus took out his wand, taking off the rest of their clothes with a flick. He wrapped his hand behind Snape’s neck and brought his lips back to his. This kiss was slower and more luscious but Snape’s want matched Remus’ this time. Feeling Snape’s hardened cock rubbing against his own, Remus took them both in his hand and began stroking.

Snape moaned, lifting his leg and wrapping it around Remus, pulling him closer. Under his breath, Snape summoned a bottle from another room. He caught it, opened it and poured some lube on his hand in one fluid motion. Remus watched him, biting his lip and continuing to stroke them, until Snape took both of them in his hand and slathered them with lube.

“Fuck me,” Snape commanded.

Remus growled into Snape’s neck as he hitched Snape’s other leg up on his hip. And with no prep, with no warning, he pounded into Snape. He didn’t care if he hurt Snape, he didn’t care if he ripped him in two, in fact, Remus hoped he did. He wanted Snape to suffer. The only thing dampening his joy was that he was sure that Snape wanted it that way, too.

Snape moaned, his fingers clutching at Remus’ biceps. “Oh…oh…fuck…fuck me….”

He was so tight; Remus had to bite his lip from crying out in ecstasy and coming immediately. He wondered vaguely who Snape had been with before, if he had ever been with a man. If so, there was no evidence of it, Remus thought viciously.

“What do you need?” Remus asked between his teeth.

“You...this…now…”

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes…so…bad…”

Remus felt his orgasm rising inside him. Taking Snape’s cock in his hand and pumping in rhythm with his ministrations, Remus asked one last question, even though it looked as if Snape had lost the ability to hear or answer.

“Do you hate me?”

Remus stopped moving; his cock deep in Snape’s ass, his hand squeezed tight around Snape’s cock and looked into his eyes.

Snape bit his lip, seeming to fight against saying what he wanted to say, but in a weak gesture that seemed to betray him, he shook his head. Giving up, he whispered, “No.”

Closing his eyes and leaning his head weakly into Snape’s neck, Remus brought them both to completion with a few more slow pumps and strokes.

“Severussssss…” Remus hissed as he collapsed on the man, losing his ability to stand on his own.

***

Remus writhed in anger against a task that was repulsive to him. When it got too much, he wrapped himself in memories. He thought of love and friendship, remembered a time when he was surrounded by allies, not villains. He closed his eyes and thought of Sirius and the tenderness in their touches, the days of frivolity where no one exists but them. He thought of those moments, but they weren’t the thoughts that soothed him when the howls got too fierce in his ears and the snarls too close.

In the end, the only thing that got him through was the memory of a certain sneer, of a certain pair of lips, the feel of a certain man’s skin against his own. So, in the anger, in the hatred, there was a gratitude that he would rather die than admit, especially to the one who kept him sane.

He spent his first full moon without Wolfsbane in the company of a pack. He wasn’t welcomed yet, but he wasn’t exactly shunned either. He felt safe enough, but close to madness, able to reach out and touch it, revel in it.

When his monthly transformation was over, and he had regained himself; he found a way to pull away from the others long enough to attend an Order meeting. Since most of the Order was also supplying security for Hogwarts, the meetings had been moved to the castle.

Instead of being ushered into private conference with Dumbledore after the meeting, Remus chose to arrive early and report on what he had heard and gathered from his mission with the werewolves. He had done as he had been told and later, at the meeting, he sat and listened; he offered no new insights, no new suggestions. He barely registered others were there.

After, while others congregated in small groups and discussed strategy, Remus once again found himself in a dark corner with Severus. Later, he would never be able to gauge if he had approached Severus or it had been the other way. It didn’t really matter he supposed.

“Severus,” he said as a way of greeting.

“Remus.”

“Can we go somewhere? Somewhere to talk?”

Severus arched his eyebrow. “Talk?”

Fighting against his blush, Remus nodded.

After a pause, Severus nodded too and walked towards the door.

Looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being watched, Remus followed him.

They walked down the spiral stairs of the headmaster’s office, down the stairs of the main floor, the next floor, the next. Round and round through hallways and doorways of empty classrooms and offices, they made their way to the dungeons where Severus’ quarters were. They didn’t talk, and the silence all around them was ominous and eerie to Remus. He vaguely longed for the annoying hammerings of Peeves to remind him of better times.

Severus’ rooms were exactly as Remus remembered them, large and warm, with the never-ending fire lazily licking the logs behind the ornate grate. Books and jars of muck filled the shelves along the walls of his sitting room. Remus walked around the room, running his fingers along the top of the mantle, spotless—one might say, even sterile.

“I used to hate coming here once a month for the potion. Having to come to you, the person who hated me the most for my greatest weakness, my greatest need.” He shivered at the memory.

Severus watched him. Remus couldn’t read what this confession did to Snape; he never could read the man.

“I didn’t hate you the whole time. Not all of you. Just the Marauder in you. But then you came to teach and the sycophant boy who hid behind arrogant, terrorizing gits was gone and in his place…” He struggled. “In the beginning, I hated having to give it to you. It seemed yet another thing that I had to do against my will. But then…well…after a while…I liked when you came here for the potion. I liked that you needed me.”

Remus came to him now. With Severus’ face in his hands, with his thumb grazing over Severus’ lower lip gently, Remus stared into those eyes that he’d never understood and suddenly felt as if he’d gotten some of his answers.

“Thank you.”

Severus licked his lip where Remus’ thumb had just been. “For what?”

“For the Wolfsbane when you thought I was a git.”

“You’re wel—”

Snape couldn’t finish; Remus’ lips were stopping him. They were soft and his kiss was exploratory instead of demanding. Severus opened his mouth and allowed the investigation to continue.

“For continuing to brew it for me when Sirius returned and you swore vengeance on us all.”

“The thought of your suffer—”

Remus kissed Severus. With nowhere to be and no voices in another room to distract or set him on edge, Remus took his time.

“For saving my life in more ways then you’ll ever know.”

“It was the least—”

Remus kissed him again, maneuvering them into the other room, a room he hadn’t been in before, but was planning on spending a good amount of time in now.

“I had forgotten what my life was without the potion. Last moon was tor—”

This time it was Severus that stopped him, but not with kisses. “What do you mean? You didn’t get your potion last month?”

“I couldn’t let the pack see me taking manmade—”

“The pack?” Severus exploded.

Remus looked confused as Severus squirmed himself out of Remus’ arms.

“You didn’t know? Albus asked me to—”

“And you agreed?” Severus was irate, his eyes murderous, his hands forming and releasing tight fists, as if wishing to strangle something. He swore in languages that Remus had never heard.

“I thought you knew.”

“Why? I thought…what was…” Severus began pacing.

Stepping in his path, Remus put his hands on Severus’ shoulders to stop him. “Listen to me. I did what you wanted; I did get angry. I am. But how do you say no to Albus Dumbledore? It’s impossible. But I remembered what you said, and it made all the difference.”

Now Severus was the one to look confused. “How?”

“Because when I said yes, I said it for me, not him. I didn’t let him use my pain, I didn’t let him use my guilt and that is what has saved me, that and…”

“And what?”

Remus struggled, he had sworn he would never tell Severus this, never give him this, but that had seemed a different time, a different Severus, and he was different too. It didn’t matter. “And you. Your anger, your attempts to make me angry,” Remus confessed in a whisper.

There was a long pause where Severus just looked at Remus, but he felt Severus’ muscles unclench and he knew everything would be okay.

“Being and sustaining anger is something I can always help you with,” Severus finally said.

Remus rubbed Severus’ bicep, then his shoulder. “I know it is. Never change.”

“I wouldn’t begin to know how.”

They kissed again and this time each of them explored the other in turn. When they had the exact taste and feel of each other’s mouths mapped, they moved on to the journey of their bodies. Removing their clothes with slow, lingering fingers, they watched each other with hungry, needy eyes.

Severus approached Remus, ran his hand along Remus’ collarbone, down his chest and rested on his heart. He began laying feather-light kisses along the marked flesh of Remus’ body, cauterizing the painful scars. Remus wished that Severus’ wounds were as visible, as easy to reach and heal.

“What can I do for you?” Remus asked.

“Touch me. Make me forget, for as long as you can.”

Smiling, Remus took Severus’ hand and led him to the bed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

The next day was beginning when Remus finally lay spent next to Severus and began to feel the dank cold of the dungeon Severus called home. He wrapped his quickly cooling body around Severus’ sweaty frame and wondered what the sun’s rays along their bodies would look like if they had access to a window.

“Next time, we should go to my place.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Next time?”

Smiling to himself because he knew Severus was trying to goad him into some ill-conceived banter and he was too post-coital to play along, he answered, “And the next time and the next time and the—”

Severus stopped him with a kiss. “We shall see.”

 

***

The next time, there was a knock on Remus’ door. The smile on his face for this small victory vanished quickly when he saw Severus’ expression.

Troubled, hunched into a black cloak, shivering against the chilling wind and whatever demons were following him, Severus stood at Remus’ doorstep.

“Come in,” Remus said, opening the door wider and stepping aside.

The cold came in with him; Remus shivered against it and cast a warming spell over them both. Severus didn’t seem to notice, but he shrugged off his cloak and let it fall to the floor. He looked around Remus’ little wood cabin and simple furnishings with disdain and Remus wondered if it was the décor he took offense to or the thoughts in his head.

“Love what you’ve done with the place, Goldilocks,” Severus snarled. “All you need are the three bears and a few bowls of porridge.”

“What are you talking about?” Remus asked.

“Oh, that’s right. You don’t know that story. You Purebloods didn’t suffer Christmas with their alcoholic old bitty Muggle grandmothers who made you wear spats and breathed this insidious nonsense in your ears with the foul stench of fish and chips.”

Severus walked around the room, not taking any of it in, infesting his toxic mood through the air. And in that pointless rant that had nothing to do with either of them, Remus understood the roles they were to play for each other.

“You really want to play the ‘who had a more painful childhood’ game with me?” Remus asked.

Severus turned to him as if finally remembering he was not alone. “No, I guess not. Forgive me.”

“I’m sorry, what? Did you just ask me to forgive you?”

“Right,” the sarcasm dripped off Severus like one of his most deadly brews. “Because I’m a bastard who doesn’t know anything about human feelings. I must have forgotten that as well.”

_Yes,_ Remus thought, _this is my role. To be the one person in Severus’ life who will listen and accept him for who he was, no matter._

“How was your day honey?”

Severus snarled again, and then looked at Remus leaning against the table, arms crossed, a bemused expression on his face.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you sure? I’m a good listener.”

Severus came to him and roughly grabbed at his shirt and kissed an overly pliable Remus. Severus tried to force his tongue in a mouth that opened willingly, tried to pull hips to him that came without struggle. He pulled away.

“What are you doing?” Severus asked, disgusted.

Remus walked toward the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt. “You don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you.” He kicked off his shoes. “You don’t want to talk home décor.” He removed his socks impatiently. “So I assume you just want to fuck, so let’s go.” He unbuttoned his trouser, looking up to see if Severus was getting naked too. Severus was standing in front of the bed, mesmerized, still fully clothed. “What?” Remus asked. “You wanted me to struggle? To resist? Tell me what you want.”

“I…I…don’t…”

“You don’t want to tell me, do you? You just want me to _know._ ”

Severus’ eyes that had looked dissatisfied and disgruntled earlier now seemed to be pleading with Remus and that was all the answer Remus needed.

“Luckily for you, I do know what you want.” Remus said as he reached for his wand. Severus flinched, but stood before the other man, exposed. With a flick of Remus’ hand, Severus’ clothes were pooled at his feet. “You want to feel.” Remus walked slowly to Severus. “You want to feel something other than pain, other than anger.” Severus swallowed and slightly nodded his agreement. Remus continued in a whisper, “You want to feel me.”

“Yes,” Severus hissed, bowing his head in defeat.

Remus was in front of him. Invading his space but not taking anything from him, breathing on him, but not touching him in anyway. If he was waiting for Severus to break through the last bits of space between them, Remus didn’t give any indication. He raised his hands to Severus’ chest; there was still no contact, but Remus could feel the magic pulsing through him reverberating off the man in front of him. He knew Severus felt it too; he saw the hair rise up, felt the shiver run through him. The pleading in his eyes intensified.

“Do you feel?”

Another swallowed answer from Severus. Remus smiled and moved his hands painfully slowly, fingers fluttering just above the skin in slow circles along Severus’ shoulders and chest.

“What do you feel?”

Severus moved his face infinitesimally closer, his nose slightly grazing Remus’, as if preparing to surrender. “You. I feel you. Only you.”

Remus sighed, and their mouths were so close, his breath became Severus’. Severus licked his lips and their lips where so close that his tongue was licking both lips. Remus’ tongue flitted to meet Severus’.

Raising his hands to Remus’ chest, Severus hovered his fingers above where Remus’ heart beat and the magic collided and slid around them both. They shivered.

While they kissed, they made an unspoken game out of not touching: Who would break? Who would give in first? Remus dove his tongue into Severus’ mouth, swirling it along the top of his mouth, then he pulled away slightly so that Severus had to either cling to Remus to keep him or let him go. Severus instinctually, without question, wrapped his arms painfully around Remus’ shoulder and hip, pulling Remus against him.

Smiling at his victory, Remus again kissed Severus hard and reaching his hand down between them, grasped Severus’ erection. Severus broke the kiss by throwing his head back with a hungry moan. Wetting his lips, Remus pushed against Severus’ chest, causing him to fall onto the bed behind him. Severus only had a moment to study Remus’ expression before Remus was kneeling before him, kneading Severus’ balls while running his tongue along the vein of his cock.

He took the tip in his mouth and swirling his tongue along the slit before taking Severus into his mouth and sucking deeply.

Severus grasped Remus’ shoulders, clutching painfully, but Remus barely felt the fingers bruising his skin, just the pulse of his blood reverberating against Severus’ grasping. It urged Remus on even more, and he sucked harder, grazing his teeth along Severus’ shaft, so that Severus’ fingers tightened and his hips began to thrust to meet Remus’ mouth.

If the things hissing from Severus’ mouth were words, they were in a language Remus didn’t know, but that was more than acceptable; his goal was to render Severus speechless. With one more moan from Severus, one more pump of his hip, one more long stroke and swallow from Remus, Remus got his wish.

With Severus’ taste in his mouth, Remus wordlessly summoned lube, his long-ignored, painfully throbbing cock wailing for penetration. Slathering himself, he looked into Severus eyes; they were as hungry as his own. Placing one and then another finger to Severus hole, he worked himself in, preparing him. Severus swore and then hissed for more, spreading his legs wider.

Positioning himself above Severus, Remus ran his hands around Severus’ thighs and grasped at his hips, pulling him to the edge of the bed, where Remus’ cock was waiting for him. Slowly and deliberately, he entered Severus, never taking his eyes off his lover’s.

For the first time, he thought that word in relation to Severus, and it almost caused Remus to come right then, but he bit his lip and pushed himself farther in. Severus arched his back and moaned throatily. Soon Remus’ grunts joined the chorus. The hot tightness of Severus enveloped Remus as he continued to pound into Severus, being urged on by his own need and by Severus’, as Severus reached for him with a pleading grasp. Remus leaned over and Severus pulled him down to him, clinching the muscles of his sphincter tightly around Remus’ cock at the same time. Remus wrapped himself around Severus as almost painful pleasure washed over him and left him shaking and sweaty.

Later, when Remus regained the ability to think, he looked around and saw that he was still wrapped around Severus, but they were at the head of the bed. One of them had preformed a cleansing charm and had wrapped their cooled bodies in a blanket. Remus watched Severus sleep beside him, saw his grimaces, heard the slight whimpers and caught breath of a troublesome dream. He wondered what it was that Severus dreamed about, and whether he would ever share them with him.

When he awoke again, Severus was just stirring as well. Severus peeked his eyes open and closed them again against the harsh sunlight streaming in through all the windows. Remus laughed at Severus’ exaggerated discomfort and kissed his eyelids, as if to heal the burn.

“And you actually like all this…light?” Severus asked.

“Sometimes,” Remus answered. “But sometimes I like the dark too.”

“You mind if I close some of the shades?”

“No, that would be fine.”

Severus rose and walked across the room. Remus watched him and whistled at his naked form. “My, but I do like watching you walking around my house, amongst my things.”

Smirking back at Remus, Severus pulled a few shades. But as a testament to his willingness to compromise, left a few up to blare the brightness.

Rejoining Remus in the comfort under the covers, Severus looked around. “Better.”

Remus snuggled into him, with no desire but to drift back to sleep, but obviously Severus was thinking of other things.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Do you think of Sirius when you’re with me?”

Looking at Severus to see if he was serious, Remus asked, “You want the truth?”

Severus paused as if he was always thinking about traps and mistaken steps with every word he uttered. “I very rarely want to be lied to,” he finally answered.

Now Remus paused, not as a way to stall, but as a way to say the truth he had without stepping on the memories of a dead past. Looking at Severus, he garnered his courage and swallowed his guilt.

“No. I never think of him when I’m with you. There was a time though, in the beginning, when I did think of you while I reveled in memories of him.”

As a testament to how much they had begun to feel for each other, Severus’ gloating smirk was only fleeting. Then he kissed Remus gently, and the subject was never brought up again.

***

Remus used to think Severus was dissonant strength and he was serene weakness, but in the months that followed, something happened, shifted. Sometimes Severus was the strong one, but not always, and Remus wasn’t always weak. Actually, they seemed to meet each other more and more in the middle—in the absolute need of the other. And, since they were all about meeting in the middle, they spent their time together in an Inn in a small village in Scotland’s Highlands. It had windows and sunshine to put Remus at ease, but the glare was muted by the trees that surrounded the property to give a bit of the darkness Severus seemed to thrive on.

Remus would never know when Severus would need him, but he grew very familiar with what the owls of Hogwarts looked like—wherever Remus was, whatever he was doing, the birds would find him and he would go, preparing himself for anything.

Severus usually knew when he was needed. The days after full moon, when Remus would be broken and bruised with the obligations that should never have been asked of him. He would find Severus waiting for him in their rooms when he staggered in. Those nights, there were no words spoken; there were embraces, caresses and sweet lovemaking, or, if requested, there were bodies being slammed against walls, clothes being torn off and bodies being ravaged. Remus was becoming accustomed to the not knowing, he even started to enjoy it.

In time, he also got used to Severus’ bizarre need to talk the morning after. The fact that Severus actually was capable of a normal, civil conversation and enjoyed talking to Remus was the hardest to believe.

One of those mornings, Severus returned to bed with two cups of tea and with a wordless spell, restarted the dying fire to create some warmth in the wintery chilled room. The night before, the lovemaking had been slow and gentle and had only taken place after Severus spent hours healing Remus’ wounds as well as he could. They were getting worse; the werewolves were getting restless and there was a bloodlust that Remus didn’t want to talk about. So, he was leery when Severus started his morning Q&A.

“Earlier, when this first started, when we first started, you said you did what Dumbledore asked for yourself, not for him, what did you mean?”

Remus sat up with a cringe and contemplated how to answer that. Finally, he began, “I need to feel useful again. I can’t bring to the table Ministry secrets like Arthur and Kingsley, I can’t bring back news from Voldemort’s camp like you can, hell I can’t even parlay with giants like Hagrid. Werewolves are what I can do. Besides, if anything I do stops just one child from going through what I did, stops one werewolf from thinking like Greyback,” he snarled the name, “then it is worth it all.”

“Ah, a greater goal to strive for, and that makes all the difference?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He blew on his tea before taking a drink. “It must be the same for you, to some extent.”

“What do you mean?” Severus asked.

“With Harry.”

“Harry?” Severus asked his voice giving away a type of tension Remus wasn’t expecting. He was accustomed to Severus’ look of dislike and almost loathing when discussing Harry, but this was something else. Pained almost, pained and definitely worried.

“Well, if all that we suffer, all we go through stops even one child from being a war-orphan, then it’s all worth it, or at the very least forgives us some of our sins, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Severus growled.

Remus thought for a moment about whether it was worth it to push Severus. Something dawned on him while he contemplated. “He did it to you, didn’t he?”

“Did what?” Severus asked, brows crinkled in confusion.

“Dumbledore used your pain, didn’t he? That’s how he’s been pulling your strings all these years?”

Severus raised his cup in a mock salute. “Finally, my secret is revealed.”

Remus knew that tone. That was Severus’ dismissive, snarky tone to signify that a conversation was over. Once again, though, Remus wasn’t ready to give it up. “Your pain doesn’t have to be a secret. I know I’ve not been someone you could trust in the past, but I’d like to think that I’ve proven myself in the last months.”

“You…you have…I do…” Severus struggled and Remus raised an eyebrow. This was new. Severus speechless, struggling for words. Remus didn’t interrupt, but let Severus work the words out, however long it would take. “You have proven yourself. Proven that you’re someone that I can care about. Please don’t ask for what I can’t give.”

“I think you can give a lot more then you think you can,” Remus whispered.

“Perhaps, but some of these secrets aren’t mine to give.”

“And the ones that do belong to you?”

Severus put his cup of tea down on the nightstand and situated himself to look straight into Remus’ eyes, opening himself up, and Remus saw that there were secrets he knew without Severus ever having to say anything. That pained look was something that Remus knew no one else had ever seen; was something Severus never allowed any other to see.

Putting his own teacup down, Remus took Severus’ hand and returned his gaze. All he could do is be there for Severus and listen to what he was going to say.

“The last half of my life has been living with a guilt that I’ve been paying for every since. I feel as if I’ve almost paid it in full, but don’t ask me what it was, not yet. Because the price I paid would be nothing to what I still might lose. When the war is over, ask me again.”

Remus didn’t have any words of comfort, so instead, he leaned in and kissed Severus lightly. “Whenever, whatever and forever.”

Severus sighed, relaxing into Remus arms. “Forever.”


End file.
